


Silence in the Shadows

by Nononlnkink



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirits, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I promise its fluffy, Near Death Experiences, Possibly Pre-Slash, Possibly religious undertones, Pre-War, Questionable drunk actions, Suicide Attempt, updates randomly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nononlnkink/pseuds/Nononlnkink
Summary: Jazz was done with it all.Primus, however, wasn't about to let him go - not before be fulfills his purpose.Prowl just wants to get through Jazz's stubbornness more or less intact.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is there water on Cybertron? Whatever, there is now.
> 
> I've been glaring at chapter 10 of Penetralia for a good few days so have a random little thing I worked on instead.

He was tired. Not the kind of tired that a good few joors of recharge could help. It was more like a heavy weight upon his shoulders and a weariness in his limbs that made him feel like he was wading through jelly. His thoughts refused to sleep, snarling for attention and presenting ideas that would be so  _ easy _ , so  _ simple  _ to do. No recharge could help him, but maybe...maybe turning off his optics and never onlining them again could.

It was while battling these thoughts that Jazz had finished his reports for the orn. It was no easy task and he always dreaded returning from a mission to a desk covered by datapads. His superiors always wanted them done before he could head home. Sometimes he could pass off a few here or there to other mechs that had come with him, but more often than not, it was up to him and only him to scrabble up reasonably professional reports. He would have dragged Mirage into helping him, but the former noble had smiled and claimed he had a very important date tonight that he couldn’t miss. At least it was something to keep him occupied and away from any tempting situations.

With everything finally written up and plopped into their appropriate out-boxes in his superiors’ offices, Jazz made his way down the stairs and out the building in time to run into some of his coworkers as they walked out. 

They exchanged quick pleasantries. One of them smiled at Jazz and simply asked, “We’re going out for energon. Want to join?”

“Count me in,” Jazz laughed. _ Smile. Laugh. I’m okay, see? _ An excuse to drown himself in highgrade. He’d take it. 

They all chatted amongst themselves as they wandered through the streets until Jazz found himself standing before a somewhat manicured building surrounded by tables on the sidewalk and looked surprisingly crowded. “It’s a good place, I promise.”

“We’ve come here for years. It has the best silver additives.”

Jazz held the door for the group and slid in before it could shut. It  _ did  _ smell fantastic inside. The smell of heavy minerals and energon pastries made Jazz’s tanks grumble. If it wasn’t for Mirage and some others, he would never refuel and without them around early, he had completely forgotten that it was a necessary part of living. Someone at a nearby table laughed at his apparent hesitance. With his field flaring in slight embarrassment, he hurried to catch up with the others. He listened to their discussion on whether rust or silver would be better. The friendliness and warmth of the other mechs was a surprisingly nice change to the stuffy and forced conversation from missions and return debriefings.

Someone claimed a table while everyone else ordered. Jazz got a small cube of highgrade with basic supplements and a little bit of rust. He had no intentions of becoming overcharged immediately. He had to draw it out - avoid any suspicion.

When he finally did start getting into the heavier stuff, everyone else was pretty out of it. Their mumblings may not have made any sense to any somber mech, but to the others, everything said was hilarious and met with uproarious laughter. The conversation stayed pretty light until the bar had begun to empty. Soon work and politics made themselves the topics of choice. It was mainly complaints about Sentinel Prime and the recent terrorist attacks performed by the Decepticons.  Even while wildly overcharged, not one word was spoken concerning what work they performed for the government. Not the time or place. Simply complaining about the council was enough.

It took a joor or two before the owner kindly informed them that the bar would be closing. Jazz took a few kliks to struggle to his feet then tried to help up the mech sitting by him. They would have both ended up on the floor if it weren’t for the bar owner giving them a hand. The group said their farewells and parted ways. 

Jazz walked alongside the road he was pretty sure would lead back to his apartment. He was way too overcharged to transform and safely make it home. While keeping hazy optics on the ground in front of him and carefully putting one pede in front of the other, his processor raced. The turn of conversation with his coworkers had been unsurprising. Outside of some of the major cities, like Iacon, Praxus, and Polihex, things were bad. Kaon had practically gone dark. His last mission to the city had only resulted in him getting pulled out after coming face to face with a shocking number of Decepticons. There had even been news that Vos was quickly falling under the radical Megatron’s control. 

War was coming and it made Jazz feel sick. Life was bad and he knew it. He  _ saw  _ it. Sometimes he was forced to play along with the horrible actions taking place across the planet. He was lost in his thoughts, enough so that he didn’t notice that he had stopped walking. Maybe it was the highgrade. Maybe it was the never ending thoughts that paraded through his processor. Maybe it was just the conversation took on a more impactful role thanks to him being overcharged. Regardless of the reason, Jazz found himself staring off into the distance and thinking.

_ It wouldn’t be so hard to simply jump now would it? _ Blame it on the highgrade. Blame it on him getting so overcharged, he got lost. He didn’t really care at this point. The idea was tempting and, well, Jazz figured that with the liquid bravery flowing through him then he wouldn’t become a coward and continue walking home.

It was with drone-like movements that made him cross the road to the barrier preventing anyone from tumbling into the dark waters below. It wasn’t far enough for him to be killed on impact, but his muddled processor couldn’t recognize it. However, falling into the water and not closing his vents would kill him - drawing water and not air into his intakes until he choked or maybe he’d be crushed with the tide. As long as he would be extinguished. That’s what all that mattered.

Both pedes carefully balanced on the fencing, Jazz gazed down into the darkness.  _ Jump _ . That’s all he had to do and then he’d be away from everything. Simple, easy.  _ Just jump.  _ He lifted one pede off the fence.

And suddenly found himself being yanked back onto the rough ground. 

He twisted his head around, ready to growl at whoever had ‘saved’ him. The figure that was glaring right back at him made Jazz snap his mouth shut. He offlined his optics, only to find that the figure was  _ still there _ when he onlined them again.

“What the frag.”

The figure tilted his head and his glare melted into something unimpressed. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“What-”

“A question then.”

Jazz shook his head and threw off the figure’s hand on his arm. “I’m seeing things.”

“And hearing things.”

“Yeah, and that,” Jazz hesitated a moment before adding, “and listening apparently.”

The figure stepped back and what little features Jazz could hazily make out were obscured. “Why not return home?”

Jazz didn’t grace the hallucination with a response. He simply spun on his heel and set off. The stupid thing followed him, keeping in step just off to his left. At least it was silent. The journey was uncomfortable. The figure would occasionally bump into him to correct Jazz’s path if he turned down the wrong street or was about to enter the wrong building. Helpful, sure, but annoying. Why did his processor decide to create a hallucination when it could have just lead him to a friend’s place or something. Ridiculous. Jazz didn’t notice that his previously angry thoughts had quieted down. 

He made it to his apartment building safely and managed to stumble up the stairs and get into the correct apartment with little help from the figure. Half expecting it to disappear when he got inside, Jazz locked the door behind him and immediately made for his berth. The figure was in his room and examining his things strewn about.  _ Oh Primus. _

“You’re a nosey hallucination.”

“I am not a hallucination. I am an Ignis.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Jazz threw himself onto his berth and missed the annoyed look he earned. “I’m going to recharge. I hope you’re gone after I sleep all this off.”

“I will not be.”

Jazz grunted, rolled over, and wiggled around until he was comfortable. It didn’t take long to nod off. The last thing he could remember before going dark was the hallucination-Ignis-whatever placing a gentle hand on his helm. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz rolled over and buried under the bedding that was tangled about him. There was a very insistent noise trying to pierce into his foggy, recharge-addled processor. He didn’t want to get up. Lurking just behind his optics was a dangerous processor ache and maybe he could avoid it if he stayed in his comfortable berth. Theannoying sound was not helping any. Maybe it was his alarm?

Onlining one optic just enough to make out shapes to avoid releasing the beast creeping through his processor, Jazz spied his alarm. It was off and blissfully silent. Then what was making that Primus-awful noise? A blurry shape moved into view. Ugh - the noises were coming from it. Had to be Ricochet then. He adjusted his audials to hear his brother. The little slagger had gone silent again. Probably expecting Jazz to just get up - oh, Primus, he’ll launch himself on top of Jazz if he doesn’t say anything.

“Not gettin’ up,” Jazz grumbled. Good enough?

The reply was not in the rough voice of Ricochet. “I would advise that. However, I must ensure that you are not in a comatose state.”

He jolted up and stared at the mech in his room with wide optics. His fingers itched for a weapon. How had he slept through someone breaking into his apartment? What a fine example of a special operations officer he was. At least the mech seemed to have unhostile intentions. “What in Primus’ name are you doing in my room?”

The mech rolled his optics. Jazz had to jerk his attention away before he could get lost in the hypnotic gold of them. “I have been here since last night. I accompanied you.” Well, this was embarrassing. It wasn’t like him to forget he had brought home someone. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the golden-gazed mech glared at him. “We did not interface. You were overcharged and I simply made sure you returned in one piece.”

That explained the rising processor ache then. “Why’d ya stay?”

“I have been assigned to watch over you.”

“By who?” If Mirage had somehow found out about-. “Oh frag. I got overcharged.”

“Extremely overcharged.”

“I didn’t do anythin’ stupid, right?” Jazz’s gaze went a little hazy as he tried to look over memories of last night. He had run into a group of coworkers and had gone to get drinks. Too many drinks apparently. Then he had started to walk home and crossed the bridge...he tried to kill himself. The klik he had remember, screaming thoughts and spark-tearing feelings rose up. Jazz curled up on the berth and stared at the wall. “I tried to jump.”

“Yes,” the mech’s voice had softened.

So if he had tried to step off the bridge and ended up at home and not at all dented then the mech standing by his berth had to have been the same that had tugged him away from the edge. Jazz glanced back at the mech and met his optics. The mech was see through and his black and white plating was dull. His optics were bright and had such a soft look in them that Jazz had to turn away. The hallucination from last night was still here and giving him such a compassionate look, Jazz wanted to scream.

“Why ya still here?”

The hallucination - what had it called itself? - sat next to him. “I am here to ensure that you live to fulfill your purpose.”

Jazz snorted. “That sounds like some of the crap the priests always go on about. Heh, did Primus send ya?”

“Yes.” The figure’s voice was steady and serious.

Um, no thanks. Today was already trying to kill him, there was no need to throw some religious thing into the mix. Jazz sighed. “What did ya say ya were again?”

“I am an Ingis.”

“What’s yer name?”

“Name?” The Ingis paused, helm cocked to the side in confusion. Almost like a turbofox, Jazz noted with a stupid smile. The confusion in the Ingis’ eyes deepened at the look. “I believe I will be called Prowl.”

Will be called? “Nice ta meet ya, I suppose. I’m Jazz.”

“I was already aware of your name.”

“What else do ya know about me then?” Jazz was genuinely curious. If this Prowl was truly from Primus or whatever, then what did the Ingis know about him or his future?

“You have been given a task that is of the utmost importance to the future of Cybertron.”

“And that’s…?”

“I do not know, only that you are my charge to ensure that you live long enough to complete it.” The Ingis frowned and leaned down to inspect Jazz. His optics were even more mesmerizing up-close. “Your reckless intake of highgrade has begun to affect you. Do you wish to return to recharge?”

“Frag yeah.”

The Ingis leaned even closer and Jazz felt an overwhelming sense of peace overcome him. Prowl pressed a light kiss to his forehead then pulled back. Jazz was confused at first. Was that a goodnight kiss or something? Then recharge began to gently tug at him. He gladly accepted it. Prowl’s golden optics were the last thing he was aware of. They were warm and held a smile.

* * *

 

Jazz was jerked awake by a crash. He scrambled to untangle himself from his bedding and fell off the berth in the process. His own thrashing alerted whoever was in the apartment to his state and it wasn’t long before hands were pulling him up. Jazz kicked at a blanket as he was freed. His savior put the bedding back on the berth and turned to regard him with a small amused smile.

Prowl’s optics had lit up with the action and Jazz pointedly ignored the fact. Instead, he gruffly stepped back and crossed his arms. “What did ya do?”

“Pardon?” The smile was gone just as fast as it had come.

“The crash. That was ya, wasn’t it?”

Prowl nodded without the barest hint of embarrassment. “My apologies. I was attempting to open a window. It is important for one’s wellbeing to be exposed to fresh air on a regular basis.”

Jazz snorted. “Of course it is.” Prowl frowned at him. Jazz beamed at him and stepped around him. Prowl followed him out into the small living room and attached kitchen. Sure enough, the small window in the kitchen was open and a stool was suspiciously close to the counter. Jazz gave the Ingis a side look. He was shorter than Jazz, enough so that he had to use a stool to reach the window controls above it. To be fair, Jazz couldn’t quite reach the controls either. Jazz set the stool back by its companions under the table. Prowl simply watched.

Jazz began to dig around in the cabinets to find a cube. Most of them were empty of anything except dust. He was rarely home long enough to stock up on fuel and such things. His office and the assigned living quarters back at Operations were much more lived in. So absorbed in his task, he didn’t notice Prowl approaching. When Jazz’s arm rubbed against something not quite solid, he jerked away and stared at Prowl with a miffed expression.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” Now that he was focused on the Ingis, Jazz noticed that he didn’t have a field. His only unhindered view of Prowl’s emotions were the other’s optics. No wonder he hadn’t noticed Prowl trying to wake him up before. There was no evidence of a living, breathing mech.

“My apologies. I was merely curious as to what you were doing.” Prowl’s voice held a hint of sheepish apology. Good enough for Jazz.

Jazz turned back to his task. “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. I don’t know if I can hurt ya or somethin’.”

Prowl leaned forward and rested his elbows on the kitchen counter, optics sliding away to gaze out the window. “You cannot hurt me. I am not fully physical and do not have the same systems as you do. This is simply a form that allows my charges to become more comfortable with me.”

“Have ya ever had to change it?”

“No,” Prowl paused with a slight frown, “I do not believe Ingis can change their Cybertronian form.”

“What do ya look like otherwise?”

“When an Ingis does not have a worldly assignment, they take a simpler form - similar to what a spark looks like. You can tell what an Ingis would look like in the form based on their optic color and frame build. A seeker frame with blue optics would be a smaller blue form.”

Jazz glanced up to inspect Prowl quickly. “So ya’d be, what, a Praxian-sized, gold spark?”

“More or less,” Prowl shrugged.

“Neat.” Jazz suddenly beamed as he pulled out a cube of slightly purple energon. “Hungry?”

Prowl was giving it a dubious look. One optic ridge raised at Jazz’s smile. “I do not believe that is the preferred energon grade after being highly intoxicated.”

“It’s all I got so do ya want some or not?”

Prowl shook his head. Jazz didn’t waste anymore time in ripping off the top and taking a gulp. It was a nice middle grade blend with some silver additives. He had no idea when or where he had gotten it, but all that mattered was that it filled his rumbling tanks. Prowl didn’t appear to agree. Jazz lead the Ingis over to the table and kicked a stool out for him to sit on. Prowl hesitated while Jazz threw himself into his seat and flopped against the table with a sigh.

Once he had some more energon in him, Jazz became much more chatty - a revelation that Prowl was immediately concerned about. “So what’re ya suppose to be doin’ exactly?”

“To ensure that you-”

  
“Fulfill my purpose, I know. But how? Aren’t ya sent from Primus or whatever? I’m not really a huge believer so I have no idea what ya are or whatcha do.”

Prowl fidgeted. “We merely do as asked. If Primus sent us to watch over a mech, then that is what we do. Told to visit temples and speak with priests? Then we do.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jazz laughed. “How’re ya suppose to deal with me then?”

“I am here to help you find purpose and something that can encourage you to continue living until you have fulfilled Primus’ designs for you.”

 


End file.
